Protective Much?
by specialsmiley1315
Summary: You never lay your hand on Aria Redford. There will be hell to pay if you do. But do it when Sam and Dean are around, well, there's a reason monsters have nightmares about them.


***WARNING: Foul language and sexual harassment.**

 **Hope you enjoy! Please check out my other stories with my OC, Aria. If you like it, leave a review! Thanks!***

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"Hey we're going to shoot some pool, you interested?" Sam asks, setting down a beer for me. I glance at the two pool tables. They're not too packed considering all the people crowded in the place.

"Nah, you two go have fun," I urge with a light smile.

"If you need anything-"

"I know where to find you, Sam." He smiles sheepishly before heading over to Dean.

I watch the condensation drip down the brown bottle, pooling around the base. The speakers play some rock song, a band I haven't heard of before. I play with the drink menu, flipping the plastic sheets over and over as a distraction. Cheers erupt from the back and I glance over at the tables, seeing the brothers high-fiving one another. Regret sits in my gut like a brick.

 _I should have gone over there._

This is the wrong time to be sitting alone. Yet, despite knowing that, I can't find the energy to get up. I take a long swig from the ice cold beer.

They don't know it's that time of year again. Don't know that we're only a state over from my hometown. Ten years later the pain is just as agonizing as the night my world imploded on me.

Scanning the bar, I watch the people chatting, smiling bright smiles, and laughing carefree laughs. I would already be shit faced drunk, passed out in a motel room with a stranger if it wasn't for the fact that we are on our way to a case. Things have been so crazy lately with trying to find a way out of this crossroads deal for Dean that I had forgotten for a bit this time in the season.

It used to be my favorite until they passed away, that early September air that still holds a hint of summer in it. Now it just brings back memories of blood stained floors and caskets, three very small caskets.

I wash the memories down with another gulp of beer, but it doesn't cut it. The strong stuff is the only thing that can drown those memories that are more like demons, the same kind that killed my family in the first place.

Abandoning the almost full beer on the high top table, I make my way to the bar, slipping into the open seat on the corner closest to the pool tables.

"What can I get for you?" The female bartender asks, a worn expression painting her aged face. She can't be more than forty, but she looks like she is having as shitty of a day as me.

"Whatever you would drink to make your demons go away." Her features light up with a smile that frames her pink lipstick painted lips as she turns away from me.

I glance over my shoulder at the Winchesters, seeing the two completely focused on their game between the two young men. This is a college town after all. Something I realized after seeing the Greek symbols hanging over a dozen or so houses a mile or more down the road.

The guys have no idea what they're in for. Sam and Dean are great at hustling. Both of them could easily win a hundred dollars on their own, but put them together and they can triple it. Now the three of us working together, well, it's just painful raking in that much cash in one night.

"Here you go, darling."

The bartender sets the drink down on a napkin, waiting as I take a sip. A curled lemon peel decorates the lip of the glass popping against the honey brown of the liquor in the old fashioned cup. I don't question the woman as I take a sip. It's sweet, nearly masking the bite of liquor entirely which makes it a very dangerous drink.

"It's perfect."

The woman grins, "Let me know if you want another."

"Will do."

The bartender tends to her other patrons and I scan the bar, sipping on the cocktail.

The place is packed with a younger crowd, the older customers hovering closer to the bar and in the corner by the darts.

A jukebox near the door has a group of girl's attention as they all talk in hushed tones, giggling and pointing at the screen. They're dressed in jeans and leggings and tight tops that don't cover their bellies. Belly button rings dangle against their golden tanned skin. I would almost think they were all twins looking at them from behind.

There's a crowd of guy's, obviously older than the girls leering at them, drinks in hand. I roll my eyes, grateful I didn't go to college. If this is what it was, I definitely didn't miss out.

A younger man comes out from the stockroom in back, greeting the bartender with a lopsided grin. The two look alike and my thoughts drift to Ellen and Jo. He jumps in beside her, the two conversing as she shakes her head at the man. I down the last bit of my drink and raise my hand, catching the woman's attention.

"Can I get you something else or do you want another?"

"That works just fine. Who's the guy?" I question quickly before she turns away. A tender smile graces her pink lips, a protective gleam in her coffee-colored eyes,

"That would be my son, Connor."

"My friend, her mom owns a bar and they work side by side," I explain, thinking of the coziness of the Roadhouse and a longing fills my chest.

 _I need to stop in soon._

"I've been running this place since before he was a thought. I want him to follow his dreams, go to school, but-"

"He keeps coming right back here?"

She smiles, nodding her head, "Can't get rid of him."

I shrug, "Speaking from experience, there's nothing better than being in a place where you feel right at home."

"Ahem to that, darling."

Connor's head is thrown back in laughter as he dries a pint glass, the older men on the corner chuckling with him. I understand the mother's concern. She doesn't want to force him into a life he doesn't want. But he wants it. That's plain as day on his face. He genuinely enjoys working here. How could you ask for anything else in life than for your child to be truly happy?

"Name's Trisha by the way," she introduces.

"Aria."

"Well, Aria, let's get you some more booze for those demons." I grin, feeling the heavy weight in my chest getting lighter.

 _Maybe you don't have to get blackout to survive this year?_

The thought makes me hopeful and I watch the brothers over my shoulder, seeing their two opponents looking disheartened.

"Here you go, darling. And I added a little extra shot in there for you," Trisha explains, her features brightened since when I sat down.

"Thanks."

She hurries away, taking care of her other customers. Some hip-hop song plays in the background and I tune it out. I play with the lemon peel sitting on the edge of my glass, curling it around my finger and uncurling it. There's movement out of the corner of my eye on my left, making me tense.

A man comes up next to me, stealing the recently vacated bar stool. Trisha takes his order and grabs him a beer. I twirl the giant ice cube around in my glass, taking a hearty sip.

"You drinking all alone?" I glance at him just taking in a quick profile before ignoring the stranger.

He's average height, medium build with broad shoulders. His hair is pulled into a crappy man bun, face sporting a five o'clock shadow. Another day, I may have entertained myself and seen where the night went but I'm still feeling the need to drown myself in liquor. My night was going better until this guy sat down. Now, I wish I was plastered so I could use the excuse that I'll puke on his lap if he doesn't leave.

"Strong and silent. Damn, girl, you're checking off everything on my list," He lays on me and I scoff, finally looking at him. His eyes are a stormy gray, his dark hair complimenting his tan.

"You thought that was going to work?"

The guy grins cheekily, "Not at all, but it got your attention."

"No, it didn't." I sip at my drink, hoping the stranger will take a hint and go on his way.

"Aw don't be like that. Come on, I ain't the kind of man to let a beautiful woman drink alone. Sit with me and my boys and let's get a smile on those lips."

A heated glare is all I manage along with a curt, "Not interested."

The persistence is pissing me off along with the cocky smile that has now slipped into place on the man's face. What the fuck is so hard to understand about the word 'no?'

"Look I ain't expecting you to come home with me. I just want to let you have a good time."

"I was having plenty fun until you showed up," I snap. Those stormy eyes flash with annoyance and frustration,

"You're sitting at a bar alone. Trust me. I know you aren't having a good time."

"You don't know me."

"Well, I'm trying to," he defends like this is my fault for being so difficult. My patience runs out and I turn, facing the man fully, my voice sharp like a knife,

"You're trying to get into my pants is what you're trying to do. So, let me tell you one more time you hard headed son of a bitch, I'm not interested. Not now, not later or ever to be honest. I want to sit here and drink my fucking drink in peace, not be hassled by a guy who wants to get his short dick wet to prove a point to his buddies."

The man stares at me stunned, rage flashing in those stormy hues. I turn back to the bar, ignoring him as I polish off the rest of my glass. He stands and relief fills me until I realize that he's towering over me, pressing against my back and locking me against the bar as his muscled arms block me in. Adrenaline seeps into my veins, my senses becoming hypersensitive as his lips brush against my ear.

"You're right. I don't want to talk to you as much as I want to fuck you out back. But I'm not trying to impress my friends, and I sure as hell ain't lacking in the cock department, sweetheart."

I grin, looking over my shoulder to see his hungry gaze tracing my lips, "The fact that you had to defend the size of your dick tells me you're lacking, buddy."

He huffs with an irritated frown, "You got a lot of balls, you know that? Being all mouthy when I got you like this."

I snort, "Please, I'm not scared of you."

I wave Trisha over, keenly aware of every shift of the stranger's body behind me. He doesn't move as I order another drink and Trisha eyes him warily, her eyes glued to me. I roll my eyes to ease the older woman. I've got this asshole handled.

She brings me back my drink and before I can take a sip the man presses against my back, grabbing my right hand as his other comes to a rest at my hip.

"So, if you're not scared then I'm guessing you like it rough." He squeezes me, my skin crawling. Keeping my rage controlled, I turn to the man calmly, my words icy,

"Get your hands off me now and I'll make sure you don't go to the hospital tonight." My mind is sifting through a dozen different scenarios, thinking of moves to escape.

"Why don't you stop with all the bullshit and put that mouth to better use?"

"Fine."

The stranger shifts away from me and I ram my elbow back into his ribs, freeing my one hand as I hop off the stool and shove him back.

"Go the fuck away," I bark, grabbing my drink and heading for the brothers at the pool table.

There's a heavy hand on my shoulder and then my head snaps back, pain spanning up my jaw and causing a headache. I drop my glass, stumbling into a table of people who barely catch me. The stranger advances, and I ready myself for a fight but the guy doesn't get two steps before two large frames block my view.

It happens faster than anybody in the room can process. Dean lands a swift right hook, Sam right behind him to deck the guy one more time. He falls to the floor, moaning, and I notice the man's friends edging closer. The brothers stand side by side, a dangerous glint in their eyes as they catch sight of the others.

"I'd grab your friend and get the fuck out of here before the three of us show you how many bones there are to break in your face," Dean snarls darkly, the group of guys going a shade whiter.

They inch closer but I interrupt them, "Not yet."

I squat down next to the asshole, the guy just coming back to. Wrapping my hand around his shitty man bun, I yank his head up, drawing a sharp grunt from him. Those storm gray eyes land on me dazed, and I my smile is cold,

"You try this shit again with anyone else; I will find you and show you just how rough I can be."

I cock my arm and smash my fist into his nose, hearing a satisfying crunch as blood gushes from it, spilling down his chin onto his shirt. Dropping the moaning and coughing sack of shit, I wipe my hand on his shirt, looking over at the friends,

"He's going to need a hospital to get that fixed."

With that, I turn back to the bar, downing the guy's beer and pulling out a wad of cash to cover my drinks and the boys. The bar is dead silent save for the music. Slowly, people start to go about their business again, soft conversations filling the room.

Trisha stands in front of me with a worn grin, pushing the money back my way, "Your boys paid for their drinks and yours are on the house after that."

"Consider it a generous tip for that extra shot," I explain, pushing the money right back.

She shrugs and takes the money, holding my forest gaze. "Don't worry about what happened tonight. That dick deserved it. If the cops come around, I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him."

"I appreciate it but I'm leaving town first thing in the morning."

"Well, in that case, take care of yourself, Aria."

"You too, Trisha."

The brothers are waiting at the door for me, watching the group of friend's haul the sack of shit into a car. The night air is cool and I tug my leather coat tighter around me, pressing my fingers into my face and wincing.

"Let me see," Dean orders as soon as the door shuts behind us. His emerald eyes are seething as he grips my face softly, turning me to face the light better.

I pat his arm, "I'm good, Dean. Asshole caught me off guard."

"Shouldn't have happened in the first place," Sam argues, waves of rage rolling off him.

"We can rid the world of a lot of shit, Sam, but not everything."

"He do anything else besides hit you?"

"Nothing that he already didn't get beat for." Dean lets me go, smirking as he squeezes my shoulder,

"That was some hit at the end there."

I laugh, "I liked the two of you swooping in like you did. Very badass might I say."

"Nobody touches you and walks away, not as long as we're around."

"Protective much, Winchester?" I tease the older brother, knowing that these boys will always have my back. Sam and Dean glanced at one another, grinning, and the tension in their shoulders dissipates.

"You're family, Aria, and nobody lays a hand on a Winchester without paying for it."

My chest tightens, throat growing tight as I nod, biting my lip as I look anywhere but them so they can't see how much their words affect me. I lost my family and somehow, by a fucking miracle, I gained another.

"I saw another bar as we were driving into town," I suggest and the boys grin, each wrapping an arm around my shoulders as they walk me to the car.

"Good. Sammy and I won big tonight so it's going to be a long night," Dean remarks, earning a groan from Sam and a smile from me.

The three of us get into the sleek black Impala, and my smile grows wider as Sam complains about having to deal with Dean's hangover tomorrow. I listen to the engine roar to life, watching the bustling bar fade away as the brothers bicker. This is what home is.


End file.
